From Time To Time
by autumnrose2010
Summary: A beautiful woman from fifty years in the past appeals to Illya Kuryakin for help. Can he reach her in time to prevent one of the bloodiest massacres of the twentieth century? Mild het in later chapters. AU
1. The Faberge Egg

She was beautiful. Illya couldn't deny that. With curly blonde hair, blue eyes, delicate features, and a sensitive mouth, she brought out in Illya the instinctive urge to sweep her up into his arms, to hold and protect her.

It had all started with the Faberge egg. While on vacation in his native country, Illya had found it in an antique shop in St. Petersburg. Awed by its beauty, he'd known that he simply had to have it.

Later, in the privacy of his motel room, he'd opened the egg, curious to see its inner marvels. Instantly he'd found himself in a different place and time; from the looks of things, St. Petersburg during the World War I era. He saw buildings, cars and carriages co-mingling on the street, people walking around dressed in the clothing of that period. And then he saw her.

She was dressed in a simple yet elegant white dress, with kid gloves and pearl earrings. She was obviously a member of the upper class, perhaps even the nobility. Her eyes fell on him, and suddenly he was speechless. She noticed the Faberge egg in his hands, and her mouth formed a soft 'O' of surprise.

Suddenly apprehensive, Illya slammed the Faberge egg shut and immediately found himself back in his motel room, shaking his head in wonder at his extraordinary experience.

Over the next several weeks, Illya pushed all thoughts of the Faberge egg to the back of his mind, but one night he came home from work and his eyes happened to fall on the Faberge egg sitting on the shelf above his fireplace. He remembered what had happened the last time he'd opened it and, curious, he picked it up and opened it again. Instantly she was there, still wearing the same dress and gazing intently at the object in his hands.

"It's mine," she told him. "My husband gave it to me for Christmas. I've been looking all over for it. However did you manage to find it?"

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Who are _you?" _she countered, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "And why are you dressed like that?"

"I am Illya Kuryakin, and I'm an investigator," he told her.

"Kuryakin," she muttered softly, her eyes traveling up and down his body.

"What's your name?" he asked. The Faberge egg snapped shut, and he stood once again in his own living room, but not before he heard her nearly whispered response. "Alexandra..."


	2. Alexandra

Illya slept fitfully that night. He couldn't get Alexandra's face out of his mind, and when he did doze off, it haunted his dreams. Who was she? What did she want from him? Was she real or merely a figment of his imagination?

He thought of confiding in his partner, Napoleon Solo, but decided not to out of fear that the American man would think him crazy.

That evening he opened the Faberge egg again, and this time, nothing happened. "Well, that settles it, then," he said to himself. "It _was _my imagination, after all."

The next day he and Napoleon were eating lunch in a diner when she brushed past him. Even though he could only see the back of her head, he knew who she was, and when she turned and he saw her face, any lingering doubt was removed.

"It's _her," _he whispered, amazed at seeing her in a modern-day setting.

"Who?" asked Napoleon.

Illya, startled, didn't even realize that he'd spoken aloud. "Her name is Alexandra," he told his partner.

Napoleon grinned. "What a looker!" he said approvingly.

Illya frowned. "You keep you hands off her, Polya," he said. "She's not that kind of woman."

Napoleon stared, surprised. "How would _you _know?"

"I just do, that's all. You Americans can be so crass sometimes."

That evening he sat on the sofa staring at the Faberge egg for a long time, and wondering whether or not he'd ever see her again.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened for several more weeks, and then one night Illya had a very vivid and frightening dream. He was in a tiny, cramped cellar, with maybe a dozen or so other people. He heard a gunshot and saw a man fall dead. He heard a woman screaming and, with a start, realized that she was Alexandra.

"They've just murdered my husband!" she cried, her soft blue eyes wide with terror. "They're going to kill my children and me too!"

Illya jerked awake and realized that he was hyperventilating and sweating.

The very next day, Illya and Napoleon were called to the scene of a hostage situation. A group of men were holding a family of seven and their servants at gunpoint in the basement of a former government building. With their revolvers drawn, Illya and Napoleon made their way down the stairs as quietly as possible.

Instantly the scene changed to the one from Illya's dream. He saw Alexandra's husband lying motionless on the floor, blood pouring from his wounds. Illya and Napoleon raised their revolvers and fired back at the assailants. Within moments they were all either lying dead or wounded, or had escaped.

One of the hostages, a distinguished looking man, walked to the man on the floor, briefly examined him, and looked up, shaking his head sorrowfully. Alexandra and several younger women clung to the dead man, crying. A young boy looked on with eyes wide with fright, and several other adults just stared, too shocked to say anything. Alexandra looked up at Illya, tears streaming from her eyes.

"I'm so sorry," Illya told her.

"He was my whole life," she sobbed. "I don't know how I'll ever go on without him." She clung to Illya and sobbed. Illya awkwardly patted her back, not knowing the words to say to comfort her.


	3. On The Run

"We must leave as quickly as possible," Illya finally said. "We don't know when they might return, possibly bringing reinforcements."

"But I can't just _leave _him!" Alexandra glanced helplessly at her husband's body.

"I'm sorry, but you must." Illya's heart ached for her, but he couldn't bear the thought of what would happen to her and the others if their assailants did come back.

Illya watched as Alexandra knelt beside the dead man and kissed his cheek. "I'll see you on the other side, Nicky," she told him, tenderly brushing the hair back from his forehead.

Illya felt a cold chill run up his spine. Could it really be...? No, of course it couldn't. The very idea was preposterous. And yet...

The group quietly filed back up the stairs and out of the building. The man who'd examined the dead man carried the teenage boy, whose face was twisted in pain. Besides himself and his partner, Illya counted ten people in all, six female and four male, including the teenage boy.

As soon as they were a safe distance from the building in which they had just nearly died, Alexandra introduced the others to Illya.

"These are my daughters, Olga, Tatiana, Maria, and Anastasia, and my son, Alexei," she said, indicating the four youngest women and the teenage boy. "Our family physician, Dr. Botkin, is holding Alexei. The others are our cook, Ivan Kharitonov, our footman, Alexei Trupp, and our maid, Anna Demidova."

Stunned, Illya looked over the group in wonder. "Do you mean to tell me that you're Russia's last Imperial family?"

"That is correct," said Alexandra.

With a start Illya realized that he and his partner may have just significantly changed his country's entire history.

"We must get you all somewhere safe right away!" he exclaimed. He longed to return to 1968, but without the Faberge egg, he had no idea how to do that.

The group traveled for several hours until they finally reached a railroad station.

"If we can make it to Germany, we'll be safe," Alexandra told Illya. "I have family in Hesse."

As they traveled, Illya and Alexandra got to know one another better.

"So what was it like for you, growing up in Germany?" asked Illya.

"My childhood was a rather sad one," Alexandra told Illya. "My older brother, Friedrich, died of hemophilia when I was only a year old. Then my mother and my younger sister Marie both died of diphtheria when I was six."

"That's terrible!" Illya exclaimed. "I'm so sorry!"

"What was your childhood like?" asked Alexandra.

"I was an only child," said Illya. "I grew up mostly in Moscow, but I spent a few years in Kiev. My parents both worked for the government, my mother in the department of health and education, my father in the department of national security and defense. It was a very lonely childhood. When I wasn't busy with my studies, I spent a lot of time playing the guitar."

"Did you ever marry?"

"No." He smiled. "I suppose the right woman just hasn't come along yet."

"Nicky was the only man I ever loved," said Alexandra. "I loved him from the time I was twelve years old, but because of religious differences, we didn't get married until ten years later. Nicky got tired of waiting for me to convert and gave into temptation for awhile. I forgave him for that indiscretion, and he was always faithful to me after that."

"That must have been painful for you."

"I would have preferred for him to have kept himself chaste and pure as I did, of course, but it was easy to understand how it's within the nature of young men to give in to such wiles."

"You must have loved him very much," said Illya. "I would consider myself to be a fortunate man indeed to have been loved as you obviously loved him."

To Illya, Alexandra seemed like no other woman he'd ever met. Although her life had been fraught with tragedy, she was such a loving and giving woman, devoting herself wholeheartedly and unselfishly to her husband and, undoubtedly, to her children as well. Illya felt that he would give almost anything to be loved by a woman as the late former Tsar Nicholas II had been loved by his wife, Alexandra.


	4. Arriving In New York City

The train soon reached its destination, and Illya and his traveling companions got off at the station. To his utter amazement, Illya found himself in the New York City of 1968.

"What is this?" Alexandra demanded as she and the others looked around, frightened out of their wits.

"This is New York City in the year 1968," Illya told her.

"But how on earth did this happen?"

Illya shrugged. "The Faberge egg must be able to work its magic even from a distance."

"Where did you find it?" she asked again.

"In an antique shop in St. Petersburg," he told her.

"They insisted that we leave the palace right away. I went to fetch it, but it wasn't in its usual place. I searched all over for it but couldn't find it anywhere. They were getting impatient and insisted that we go with them anyway. It broke my heart to leave it, but I had no other choice."

"I'm so sorry." Illya could think of nothing else to say. "Where did they take you?"

"To Tobolsk, and from there on to Yekaterinburg. They told us that we were going to be relocated again and that they were going to take our picture first as proof that we were still alive. Then their leader told us that we were to be executed instead. I heard the shots and saw Nicky fall, and then suddenly I saw you." Her eyes were soft with wonder. "You saved us, Illya."

"Well, I couldn't just stand there and let them kill you," he said modestly, awkwardly.

"So what's to become of us now?" she asked.

It occurred to Illya that they did indeed seem to be in a quandary. What would become of a group of ten, including a teenage boy, from fifty years in the past? They knew nothing of modern times, of course, or indeed, much about American culture, probably even less than he himself knew.

"I'd be happy to let you stay in my apartment," he said. "Although it has only one bedroom so would be a bit crowded."

"Is there not an inn in this town?" asked Alexandra.

"Of course there is!"

"Money is no object," Alexandra said. "The girls and I sewed jewels into our clothing for just such an occasion and, of course, we will provide for the doctor and the servants as well."

Relief flooded through Illya. Quickly he called several cabs for the group and directed them to the nearest motel, then returned to his apartment quite shaken. Although glad that they all had a place to stay for the night and means to get by for awhile, he was worried about their long-term survival. How could they ever hope to make it in a foreign country fifty years in the future from their own time? He couldn't get Alexandra's beautiful blue eyes out of his mind. He knew that they'd haunt his sleep that night, just as they had every night since the first time he'd laid eyes on her.


	5. Adjusting

Illya couldn't wait to find out how the group he and Napoleon had saved were faring. Fortunately, he had a few days' leave before his next assignment, so the first thing he did the following morning was to go to the motel where they were staying to check on them.

He arrived to find the group well-rested and comfortable but somber. He could certainly understand why, as they'd lost their husband/father and been transported fifty years into the future on the same day.

"Illya!" Alexandra exclaimed, rushing to embrace him. In her blue eyes he saw deep pain, sorrow, vulnerability. He had the overwhelming urge to protect her.

"This New York City of 1968, we will be safe here? The Bolsheviks will not find us?"

"You will be quite safe. I will see to that."

"Then I suppose first we should find permanent lodging. To do that we must sell our jewels. Can you tell us where to go to do so?"

"I will take you to a dealer," Illya offered.

The dealer's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw the jewels. They were quickly sold and the money deposited into the bank. Alexandra was easily able to buy a house large enough for ten people to live in with plenty left over.

"I do appreciate all your help," Alexandra told Illya once the group was settled in their new home. "I hope that you'll be a frequent visitor."

"The line of work I'm in takes me out of town frequently," said Illya. "But I will certainly stay in touch as frequently as I can."

"And what line of work is that?" asked Alexandra.

"I'm a photographer for a magazine." It was the standard answer Illya gave when asked about his profession.

"You certainly seem to be well trained in combat for a photographer."

"I formerly served in the police force."

"I see. And why did you give that up to become a photographer?"

"I decided that I wanted to see more of the world." Illya grinned. "Have a pleasant evening, and please call me if you need anything."

* * *

The week seemed to fly by. Illya spent every available minute with Alexandra, helping her to shop for furniture, clothing, and food, to learn to navigate the city's buses and subways, to learn modern-day American customs and traditions.

At last the day arrived that Illya had to leave on assignment with Napoleon.

"I have to go out of town for my job," he told Alexandra. "I'm not sure exactly when I'll be back, but I'll be gone for at least a couple of weeks."

Alexandra looked crestfallen. Illya suddenly wished more than anything that he could stay with her.

"The time will pass quickly," he said. "You have provisions and know your way around. You will be fine."

"There is something that I forgot to tell you," Alexandra said. "Alexei suffers from a bleeding disorder. If he suffers even a minor injury, he bleeds uncontrollably. He has been close to death many times."

"If he is injured, you must take him to the hospital," Illya told her. "They can stop the bleeding and save him. Medicine has advanced greatly in the past fifty years, Alexandra. There are treatments now for disorders that were considered untreatable before."

Alexandra looked greatly relieved. "In that case, I am very glad to be in 1968. Alexei's illness has always been my greatest burden." She stared at the ground. "I am the cause of it, you know."

"And why is that?"

"The disease is in my blood, in my family's blood. Alexei inherited it from me."

"There is no reason for you to feel guilty," Illya told her. "It is not your fault that Alexei has a blood disorder. You cannot help what is in your family's blood."

Alexandra smiled weakly. "That's what Nicky used to always tell me." The memory of her husband, so tragically lost, caused tears to come to her eyes again.

"It's true." Illya smiled gently. "Please take good care of yourself and your lovely family, Alexandra, and I'll see you again when I return."


	6. The New Nurses

Illya's assignment took him to a Latin American country, where he and Napoleon were able to thwart a revolution and thus save the lives of the ruling family. The assignment reminded him of Alexandra and her family's situation very much, and he found himself eager to see her again. As soon as he returned to New York City, he paid her a visit.

"Illya!" she exclaimed happily when she saw him. "It's so lovely to see you again! Did you take a lot of lovely photos, then?"

Illya hadn't taken a single photograph, of course. Looking into Alexandra's blue-grey eyes, he suddenly couldn't be anything less than fully honest with her anymore.

"There is something you must know," he told her. "I am not really a photographer. I work for an international crime-fighting agency, and I have just returned from a mission in which I helped prevent the overthrow of a government."

"Oh, how I wish you could have saved our own kingdom!" Alexandra exclaimed.

"We do what we can, but we are only human," Illya replied. "So did you all have a nice time sight-seeing in New York while I was gone?"

"Oh, yes!" Alexandra smiled. "We all enjoy riding on the subway very much. It is such a smooth ride that it is quite like flying, and it takes you where you need to go ever so quickly. And the clothing stores! We have never seen such wonders!"

"The younger ones are especially fascinated with the object you call a television set. It is just like a little movie inside a box, and you only need change the channel to watch a completely different one."

"How has Alexei been?" asked Illya.

"Fortunately, he has had no bleeding episodes since our arrival."

"I am glad."

"I have also been thinking of what we are all to do with ourselves, since our situation has changed so drastically," Alexandra continued. "And I have decided that Dr. Botkin, myself, and my older daughters shall return to the medical field, Anastasia and Alexei shall be enrolled in the appropriate grades in school, and appropriate positions shall be found for Anna, Mr. Trupp, and Mr. Kharitonov."

Suddenly Illya had an idea. "I have the perfect solution," he told Alexandra.

* * *

After a lengthy discussion, Illya finally persuaded Mr. Waverly that it would not be a security risk for Alexandra and her daughters to work in Medical. After all, they knew nothing about the UNCLE organization and would not be privy to any top-level secrets while treating routine illnesses and injuries of the employees.

"This is Medical." Illya enjoyed watching the astonished faces of Alexandra and her daughters Olga and Tatiana as they gazed in wonder at all the gleaming modern equipment.

"Medicine has certainly changed in the past fifty years," Alexandra commented.

"Indeed it has," Illya agreed.

"I feel a bit intimidated," said Olga.

"There is no need for you too." Illya gave her a reassuring smile. "You shall all receive thorough training in everything you need to know."

Illya had told no one of Alexandra and her family's true origins and how he'd found them, as he wanted to protect them from being viewed as freaks. To his co-workers he passed them off as long-lost distant relatives for whom he felt responsible, and so far no one had questioned his story.

"So how are the new nurses in Medical working out?" Napoleon asked him.

"Everything seems fine so far."

"All three of them are beautiful, and single, you say."

"They are not your type, my friend." Illya felt a sudden urge to protect Alexandra and her daughters from Napoleon's advances. Although Napoleon was his best friend, Illya didn't want to see the three women become merely sexual conquests.

"Are they your type, then?" Napoleon teased.

Illya just scowled.


	7. Miniskirts And Modern-Day Miracles

Several mornings later, Illya stopped by Medical to say hello to Alexandra before heading to his own office, only to find her livid.

"You should have seen what my Anastasia wore home yesterday!" she blazed. "It barely covered her bottom, and you could see her legs from well above the knee on down. It was simply obscene, I tell you!"

Illya had to chuckle. "It is called a miniskirt, _dorogaya moya. _It is the latest fashion. All the young women in New York City wear them these days."

"I think they look really nice, Mama, and I'd like to be able to wear them too," said Tatiana, who'd overheard the conversation.

Alexandra rolled her eyes and sighed deeply. Illya laughed as he walked away. It occurred to him that he'd love to see Alexandra herself in a miniskirt, but of course he didn't dare voice that opinion.

Several days later, Alexandra received a telephone call from Alexei's school.

"I must leave right away," she told Illya. He noticed that her voice was shaking and automatically felt concerned for her. "Alexei's nose began bleeding, and they can't get it to stop. He must be taken to the hospital as soon as possible."

"I'll come with you," Illya offered. "You should not have to go through this alone."

"But I would not want to take you away from your work..."

"It is all caught up for the day, _dorogaya moya, _and you are much more important to me than finding things to do around the office until it is time to go home."

Alexandra smiled gratefully. Illya smiled back and patted her arm.

Illya drove Alexandra to the school to pick her son up, then to the hospital to have him admitted.

"It is at times like this that I miss our friend Rasputin most keenly," Alexandra said to Illya as they sat in the waiting room.

Illya raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything. He'd heard the name before, of course.

"He was a holy man of God, Illya. He could stop Alexei's bleeding when even the doctors couldn't."

"As you know, Alexandra, medicine has come a long way in the past fifty years," Illya reminded her. "The doctors now can give Alexei clotting factors that will stop his bleeding much more quickly than any kind of magic can."

"Clotting factors?" Alexandra looked blank.

"We know now that your son's excessive bleeding is caused by a deficiency of certain components that are normally found in blood," Illya explained. "These components are far too tiny to see, but they are important for the blood to clot normally. We now have the technology to separate the clotting factors from the rest of the blood and inject them into sufferers of hemophilia."

"But where does the blood with the clotting factors come from?"

"A healthy individual donates it."

"So now they are able to take blood from one individual, remove the clotting factors from it, and inject them into another individual?" Alexandra sounded incredulous.

Illya smiled. "That is correct."

"Truly that is a miracle of God."

"It is the fruit of the hard work and diligent study of many doctors and scientists over the years."

"You _are _a believer, are you not?" Alexandra was beginning to sound upset.

"I believe in what can be proven objectively."

"You sound just like a Bolshevik to me." Alexandra's voice was cold, accusing. "It was Bolsheviks that killed my Nicky."

"And it was an actor that killed Abraham Lincoln," Illya retorted. "Does that mean that all actors are murderers?"

"Well, no, of course not, but..." Alexandra looked very torn.

Just then a physician appeared. "Your son is resting peacefully," he told Alexandra with a smile. "You may see him whenever you want."


	8. Weekend

Alexandra was so relieved by the good news about Alexei that she forgot to be cross at Illya. "They've already stopped the bleeding!" she exclaimed.

Illya smiled. "I told you they would."

Alexandra and Illya entered Alexei's hospital room to find him sitting up in bed smiling. "They've been taking really good care of me here, Mama." He glanced at Illya and smiled shyly.

"It is wonderful to see that you are doing so well," the blond told him.

"They have new medicines now that can stop the bleeding even better than Father Grigori could," Alexei replied.

"Indeed they do," Illya agreed.

"I'm so happy." Alexandra embraced her son.

The hospital wanted to keep Alexei overnight for observation, and an extra bed was brought in for Alexandra, who insisted on spending the night with her son. Illya left, promising to return the next day.

The following morning he went back to the hospital to escort Alexei back to school and Alexandra back to work.

Olga and Tatiana rushed to meet their mother when they saw her coming.

"Is Alexei already back in school, then?" asked Olga.

"Indeed he is," Alexandra told her.

"I have never known him to recover from a bleeding episode so quickly," said Tatiana.

"Modern-day medicine is to thank for it," Alexandra replied. Illya smiled at her words, as they were so similar to the ones he'd spoken to her only the day before.

That weekend was predicted to be sunny and hot. Illya knew exactly what he wanted to do, and who he wanted to do it with, but he wasn't at all sure how to go about asking her. He told himself that perhaps it was too soon, perhaps she didn't know him well enough, perhaps she wasn't yet well enough adjusted to life in 1968. Friday evening he realized that it would probably be his last opportunity, so he mustered up the nerve and approached her.

"Alexandra?"

"Yes?"

"I know this may seem kind of sudden, but...well, you see...the weather is supposed to be really nice this weekend, and I was just wondering...would you like to go swimming with me on Saturday morning?"

"Why, that sounds like a lovely idea!" Alexandra's eyes lit up, and Illya heaved a huge sigh of relief.

When he arrived to collect Alexandra and her family Saturday morning, Illya had to suppress a laugh when he saw the swimsuit Alexandra was wearing. It covered not only her entire body but her upper legs as well. He was relieved to see that Olga, Tatiana, Maria, and Anastasia were wearing more modern swimsuits.

"I tried to talk them out of wearing those indecent swimsuits, but they wouldn't listen," Alexandra apologized.

Illya smiled. "I actually find Tatiana's swimsuit very attractive. I was just wondering whether you might be more comfortable in something similar."

Alexandra's eyes widened. "You are a very different man from my Nicky, Mr. Kuryakin."

"With all due respect, Tsarina, a lot more has changed over the past fifty years than just methods of transportation and the quality of health care," Illya said gently.

"Next you'll be telling me that intimate relations outside wedlock are now considered acceptable!"

Illya's mind automatically went to Napoleon. "To many people they are, yes."

Suddenly Alexandra's eyes held a faraway look. "I told you once that Nicky gave in to temptation before we were wed."

"Yes, I recall."

"Her name was Mathilde Kschessinska, and she was a ballerina. Nicky met her when he was twenty-one. His father practically threw them together. Their affair lasted three years."

"I am sorry that happened." Illya felt awkward.

"Right before he asked me to marry him, he confessed the affair and begged me to forgive him. I did, of course. What else could I have done?"

"But at least he ended the affair before marrying you."

"Yes, and he was always faithful to me after we were wed. I've always felt that I should consider myself very fortunate in that regard. And yet..."

"Yes?"

"A part of me has always wondered what it would have been like to have been Mathilde Kschessinska."


	9. The Beach

Illya's first thought was that he must keep Alexandra away from Napoleon at all costs. His second was to wonder what it would be like to make love to her himself. Not that the thought hadn't occurred to him before, but he'd always considered it well beyond the realm of possibility. Yet if Alexandra's mind was truly wondering the path it now seemed to be upon...

"Are we all ready to go now, then?" he asked.

Alexandra glanced around at her family, then smiled and nodded. "I believe we are."

It was only a short ride to the beach. A few other people were there, clumped into small groups, but it wasn't terribly crowded, which Illya was happy to see.

The five Romanov children whooped happily at the sight of the sun-drenched sand bordered by the clear water.

"They'd been cooped up inside for ever so long before," Alexandra told Illya. "None of us thought we'd ever see the sun again."

"Well, you are free to enjoy it to your heart's content now," Illya said tenderly. He ran toward the water himself, glancing back and grinning encouragement at Alexandra. With some slight hesitation, she followed him.

The two of them were enjoying riding the waves and feeling the sensation of the sun on their backs when they heard snickering and realized that some onlookers were laughing at Alexandra's swimsuit.

"Perhaps I should have dressed differently, after all," she said to Illya.

"We could take a break and walk along the shops along the boardwalk," Illya suggested. "They sell swimsuits there."

A few minutes later, Illya was standing in one of the aforementioned shops, waiting for Alexandra to emerge from the changing room. At last he saw the door open, and she cautiously stepped out.

Illya had to gasp at the sight of the former Tsarina in a modern-day swimsuit. It was white with red trim, its top accenting her cleavage in a very flattering way, and its cut at the bottom emphasizing the curve of her hips. Slightly annoyed at the sensation of his own swimsuit suddenly feeling tighter, Illya fastened a towel around his waist to hide the evidence of his arousal.

"I feel so exposed." Alexandra's voice was almost a whisper.

"It is very modest by today's standards, and you look absolutely lovely in it," Illya told her.

"I fear that God and my Nicky would disapprove."

"I believe that if there is a God, He would never want you to be ashamed of the beauty with which he has blessed you."

"Of _course _there's a God," Alexandra insisted resolutely. "And if He has given me beauty, I cannot help but conclude that it is for my husband's eyes alone."

"But your husband is not here anymore," Illya said gently. "And nothing about the swimsuit you have on now is inappropriate in the least. Your most intimate parts are properly concealed, as they should be."

Alexandra blushed a deep red. "I feel very uncomfortable discussing such matters with a man to whom I am not married." Her voice was so low that it was almost a whisper.

"I am sorry," said Illya. "I should have realized that what I just said would seem insensitive to you. However, I do find the swimsuit very attractive on you, and it would make me very happy if you bought it."

Alexandra looked thoughtful for a moment, then smiled. "Very well. I shall."

Illya grinned happily.

Alexandra left the shop wearing the suit, and to her relief, her children seemed pleased rather than horrified when they saw her.

They frolicked in the waves some more, then ate the picnic lunch they'd packed, chatting as they did so.

"Anna has mentioned that she would like to meet your partner," Alexandra told Illya.

"I would be happy to introduce the two of them," Illya replied. "However, you must understand...Napoleon, while honorable by nature and a true gentleman, is also very much a man of the nineteen sixties. By that I mean that, to him, intimate relations are a normal part of the dating experience, and it is what he is accustomed to."

Alexandra's face darkened. "In that case, I shall discourage her interest."

"I am not implying that it would necessarily be a bad idea for them to meet," Illya said. "I only mean that Anna should be aware of that fact beforehand. As I said, Napoleon is a gentleman and would never pressure her into doing anything she would feel uncomfortable about."

A short time later, Illya returned the family to their home.

"Thank you very much for a highly enjoyable day," Alexandra said to him.

"It was my pleasure," he replied. "Would you like to join me for dinner tonight?"

"That sounds lovely!" Alexandra exclaimed.

"I'll mention to Napoleon that Anna would like to meet him as well," Illya said. "Perhaps we could set something up soon."

"That would be nice."

After debating whether or not he should kiss her good-bye, he finally allowed his lips to gently graze her cheek. She seemed pleased.


	10. Illya's Close Call

Illya felt unaccountably nervous while preparing to take Alexandra to dinner that night. Although he felt that he knew her quite well by now, it had been some time since he'd actually been on a real date with a woman, not counting women he was required to romance as a means of obtaining information in the line of duty. In addition, he realized that Alexandra was completely unfamiliar with modern-day courting rituals, so he felt especially protective of her.

When he arrived at her home, he saw that she was wearing a sleek black dress that, while of course modest by today's standards, was still quite attractive. Her light brown hair was tied back with a black ribbon, and she wore onyx earrings with a matching necklace. Illya himself wore black slacks with a white button-down shirt and a black tie with pinstripes.

"You are beautiful," he said softly when he first saw her.

"Thank you." She smiled demurely.

"Shall we be on our way, then?"

He took her to his favorite restaurant. With the lights turned down low and smooth jazz provided by an in-house band, Illya soon felt incredibly relaxed. He smiled across the table at Alexandra. "Are you enjoying yourself so far?"

"The music is completely unfamiliar to me, but it is lovely nonetheless."

"It is called jazz," Illya told her. "It is my favorite kind of music. Would you like to dance?" Several couples were already on the floor.

"Certainly!" They both stood, and he took her into his arms and they began to move to the music.

"The last time I danced was at our Tricentennial Ball in 1916," she told him. "Oh, Illya, you should have been there! The Alexandra Palace was all decked out for the occasion. There were banners and streamers everywhere, and ever so many lights, and everyone was all dressed up. It truly was magic..."

Suddenly her eyes looked very sad. Illya gently swept a stray hair back from her cheek. "You must have looked as lovely as you do tonight."

"Nicky wore his best suit. He was so handsome..."

"It looks like our food is ready," Illya said gently.

Over dinner Alexandra regaled the blond with stories of the Tricentennial Ball. "Everything about it was simply perfect," she told him. "I think it was the last really happy night of my life."

"There may yet be happier nights to come." Illya's hand reached across the table to clasp hers. To him she'd never looked more beautiful.

After an evening filled with magic, Illya drove Alexandra back home and walked her to the front door.

"Dinner was lovely," she told him. The reflection of the moonlight in her eyes made him melt inside. "Thank you for a wonderful time, Illya."

"Thank _you, _beautiful Tsarina." His lips touched hers for the first time, and she responded in kind.

* * *

The following week, Illya was shot several times, in the leg, arm, and chest, while on duty. As he was carried into Medical in agony, Alexandra turned pale at the sight of all the blood.

"Illya! Dear God!" she sobbed as she flew to his side.

"Is he going to make it?" she asked the physician on call.

"A lot depends on how much damage that bullet to the chest did," the physician told her.

Sometime later, the operation was over and Illya was wheeled into recovery.

"He was fortunate," the physician told Alexandra. "The bullet didn't hit any vital organs. However, he did lose a lot of blood, so he's very weak."

The next time Alexandra saw Illya, he was lying in bed asleep, his skin looking very pale against the white sheets. She was reminded so painfully of Alexei after one of his bleeding episodes that it cut her to the heart. Gently she brushed a lank of blond hair back from his forehead, glancing at the bandages swathing his arm and leg, the wrappings covering his chest. She thought how close she and her children had come to death that night in the Ipatiev House, what would have been their fate if Illya and Napoleon hadn't shown up right when they did.

"Oh, Illya, please be all right..."

She was still sitting at his side when he awakened several hours later.

_"Zhazhdushchiy," _he croaked. She fetched a Styrofoam cup filled with ice water and held the straw to his lips. Quickly he drank every drop. _"Spasibo." _His eyes flickered open and gazed into hers. "Alexandra."


	11. A Private Discussion, And What Came Next

"I'm right here, my darling," she said, tenderly sweeping the blond locks back from his forehead. It was the first time she'd ever called him by the endearment, and he smiled when he heard her words.

"This type of situation occurs frequently in the line of work I do," he told her. "If you want me to be a part of your life, you must become accustomed to it."

"I was alone for months at a time while Nicky was away on the Eastern front during the war," Alexandra told him. "I know what it's like to miss a man and pray for his safety."

"War is terrible," Illya said softly.

"The Russian people hated me for my German blood."

"Many Americans dislike me because of my background as well." Illya felt a sudden kinship with the woman whom he'd always believed had died years before his birth. The fact that, through a rather ordinary object, he'd actually gone back in history and changed it still astounded him. Sometimes he had the sudden urge to reach out and touch Alexandra, just to make certain that she was real, solid. Yet he'd kissed her lips, and they'd felt warm, soft, definitely human.

"What year were you born?" Alexandra asked him, jerking him out of his reverie.

"Nineteen thirty-three. Why do you ask?"

"I suppose the Bolsheviks were firmly established by then."

"Yes." Illya was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the direction in which the conversation seemed to be headed.

"And there was another war, also with Germany."

"A crazy man named Adolf Hitler tried to take over all of Europe and make it his own. We lost many men, as did the United Kingdom and the United States."

"But we were victorious."

"Yes, but as I said, at the cost of many lives."

"I cannot help the country of my birth, Illya."

"Of course you cannot."

"Please don't hate me."

With his good arm he reached for her and pulled her into an embrace. "I could never hate you."

* * *

As always, Illya insisted upon returning home long before the physician considered it advisable. He was given a few days' leave before returning to duty.

He spent much of his free time with Alexandra, going for walks in the park or along the beach, enjoying the amusements on Coney Island, touring the city, or just sitting and talking together. Many times Illya simply forgot who she'd been and where she was from and felt as if he were in the company of a twentieth-century-born commoner. He listened as she explained the tenets of her adopted religion of Eastern Orthodoxy and how it differed from the Lutheranism in which she'd been raised. Although not a believer himself, he admired her devotion to her faith, which was so great that she'd turned down Nicholas' first proposal for its sake.

One night he took her to his favorite jazz club and they stayed long into the night, enjoying the music, drinking, and talking, until Alexandra began to yawn and Illya offered to take her home.

"I wonder, Illya...would it be a terrible imposition if I asked you to take me back to your apartment rather than my home?"

"Not at all," Illya replied. "However, my apartment is very small and plain by comparison to your home."

"There is something I would like to discuss with you in private."

"I hope that nothing is wrong."

"Oh, no, not at all. It's simply that..." She blushed deeply. "Well, I will have to wait until we are alone to explain."

His curiosity now greatly piqued, he nevertheless took the time to enjoy the brisk night air on the short walk back to his apartment. When they were inside, Illya poured drinks for them both and then sat beside her on the sofa.

"It's rather difficult to begin," she said after a moment's silence.

"Just take your time." Illya smiled.

"It's simply that...you came so close to death recently."

"As I told you, that is the nature of my position."

"And I realized that if you had died, I would have never known what it was like..." She blushed deeply again.

"What _what _was like?" he asked gently, taking both her hands and looking into her eyes.

"Do you recall the discussion we had the morning before you took us to the beach, in which you told me that many modern-day people consider intimate relations outside marriage to be acceptable?"

"Indeed I do." He now had an inkling in what direction this conversation was headed, and he felt his heartbeat quicken.

"At the time, I cringed in horror internally, but over the past few days, I've given it a lot of thought, and..."

"Yes?"

"Illya, how do you feel about the idea of...well, you know..."

He took her into his arms and began to kiss her passionately. She responded with equal fervor, and soon both their tongues were entwined. She lay back on the sofa, and he lay atop her, the evidence of his arousal pressing into her.

"Shall we move to the bedroom? We would be more comfortable there," he whispered.

In the bedroom, they took their time undressing one another, relishing each moment of discovery. When they were both finally naked, they lay on the bed together as he used first his fingers, then his mouth, to stimulate her, getting her ready. She gave a cry of surprised joy as his tongue swathed her most intimate parts.

When he knew that the time was right, he moved into position and entered her, weeks of anticipation culminating in an act of fevered passion.


End file.
